


I Know What You Are

by RennieMcTavish



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abduction, Blood, Character, F/M, captor-captive, tom hiddleston - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RennieMcTavish/pseuds/RennieMcTavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter in a hospital hallway. A mysterious house. Locked doors and kindness. Attraction leading to passion. Fear of being discovered. Fear of being lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter in a hospital hallway. A young woman. A mysterious man. Or is he?

She’d gone back to the hospital after happy hour at the bar down the street. There was too much recordkeeping and correspondence to save it for Monday. It was nearly midnight when she finally locked her office and started down the hallway toward the exit to the parking lot. A door opened and a tall man dressed in doctor’s scrubs and lab coat stepped into the corridor. When he turned toward her, she saw that he wore sunglasses and a surgical mask. Despite the ridiculousness of that, he exuded something – a combination of sexuality, otherworldliness, and menace – and she almost turned and ran for the emergency phone that she knew was mounted on the wall a dozen yards behind her. But instead she stayed frozen, like a deer trying to avoid a wolf. Her breathing had gone shallow, yet her pulse raced under his gaze. She wished him nearer. She wished him far away.

But he didn’t step toward her. Didn’t say a word. He took a few steps backward – she knew his eyes were fixed on her from behind those incongruous black sunglasses – then turned and stalked away, disappearing around the first corner he came to.

She was shaking, she realized. She thought about calling security, but … It was the middle of the night. She was tired. She’d stayed up late last night, too, but not for work; instead, she’d been reading a suspense-filled fantasy novel set in a big city too much like this one. She shook her head, scoffing at her overactive imagination. The guy was probably in a bad mood, having to work at this hour. That’s why he didn’t speak. But why was he wearing sunglasses? There was something off-kilter about his clothing, too, almost as if … as if he was dressed like he thought a doctor would be. There went her imagination again.

She was curious about one other thing. What was behind the door he’d stepped out of? She walked briskly toward it, her heels clicking sharply on the linoleum. The blood bank. She felt an absurd little shiver cross her skin.

“Can I help you?” A technician was striding down the corridor. “Sorry if you’ve been waiting. I’m just coming back from a break.”

“Oh. No worries. I’m not waiting. I just stopped for a second.”

“Gotcha. Man, I’m on my own tonight. The other guy who was supposed to pull this shift didn’t come in. I’m not supposed to leave the room unattended, but sometimes you just gotta go.” He swiped his security card.

“There was –.” She stopped, somehow unwilling to mention the man she’d seen.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, nothing. Good luck with the rest of your shift.”

She made sure her car keys were in her hand and her cell phone in her coat pocket as she walked through the door into the parking lot. Between that damned book and the oddly unsettling man in the corridor, she was more than a little jumpy. It just figured that the lot had been crowded this morning and she was parked at the far end. Maybe she should get one of the guards to walk her to her car. Shaking her head at her mood, she kept walking. Even when those women had disappeared a couple of years ago, she’d never been afraid to walk to her car.

She walked quickly down the center of the lot where the lights were the brightest, holding her keys at the ready as she turned down the row to where her car sat in a darker corner.

“Shit!” she exclaimed as she fumbled with the lock on her old Toyota. With no warning, a hand clamped over her mouth from behind and she was pulled against a hard body. She took a deep breath, ready to scream.

“Don’t,” he said.

She had no doubt whose voice it was.

“I’ll release you if I have your word that you won’t scream.”

What could she do? She nodded and he removed his hand.

“Say it.”

“You have my word.”

“Turn around,” he said.

His sunglasses were gone and she looked into a pair of remarkable eyes.

“You saw me.”

“Yes, you were in the hallway.”

“You know where I had been, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And do you know why I’d been there?”

“Where the blood is kept?” She realized now that she’d known from the moment she saw him. “Yes. I know.”

“Liar!”

“No. Not a liar. I know what you are.”

“What? A thief?”

“No.”

“Then what am I?”

“A vampire.” It sounded so fucking ridiculous when she said it. But she could see the truth in his eyes, despite the sneer that crossed his face.

“You believe in the stories humans tell so that they can play at being afraid? The stories that give children nightmares?”

“Not until now. But I know what you are.” She looked him directly in the eyes as she said it, her voice strong.

His beautiful eyes turned inhuman, and she flinched despite her vow to remain brave. “You don’t fool me. I can smell the fear on you.” He leaned down and laid his cheek along hers. She couldn’t move. As he nuzzled along her jawline, his breath tickled her skin and she shivered. “It’s delicious.” His lips brushed her neck and a breathy moan escaped her.

When he straightened, the ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “Aroused by the nightmare?”

And that was the last thing she knew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious house. A vampire and his choices.

She opened her eyes to utter blackness – disorienting, overwhelming blackness. Reaching out a hand, she felt the surface she was lying on. Soft. A bed. Great. At least she was alone in it. She flexed her wrists. “No handcuffs. That’s a plus,” she muttered.

“Do you really think I’d need to restrain you?” His voice crept through the darkness and danced over her skin.

“I thought you might like your women tied up.” She immediately regretted her tone, but it wasn’t in her nature to cower.

She heard the barest whisper of a chuckle. “I prefer silk or leather for that. Don’t you?”

His words made a shiver run up her spine. She heard a click, and a dim light bloomed from several feet away. He looked softer, less severe, in the gentle lamplight, though the chiseled elegance of his cheekbones and jawline was still evident. His eyes gleamed in the light.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked.

“How about let me go?”

“No, I don’t think so. You’re the one who said it – you know what I am. That poses a problem.” He came to perch on the edge of the bed.

She met his eyes. “Am I your prisoner until you decide that I’m, what, food?”

“You’ll be my guest even after I decide you’re food … if that’s what I choose to do with you.”

“And what are the other options?”

“That depends on my mood. And to some extent, on what you want.”

“What I want? What I want is to go home.”

“To your husband? Your lover?”

“To my home. Somewhere not with you. Not with someone who knocked me out and carried me off to – what is this place?”

“My home.”

“Really?” She snorted. “I thought you’d have a coffin instead of a bed.”

She would have sworn that the corner of his mouth twitched.

 

He’d left her soon after that – probably because of the way she’d badgered him to show her the bathroom. She felt a bit sheepish when he pointed out the door that led to it from the bedroom. He was visibly annoyed when she repeatedly reminded him that humans needed food and water in addition to a toilet. For now, she was happy she had the latter. And at least she’d had a drink from the bathroom faucet. As for food? She probably wouldn’t live long enough to need a meal.

And now she lay in bed, although she knew it was daylight. What else was there to do? He’d locked the door from the outside, after explaining in detail the alarm system and the surveillance cameras. She knew better than to try to escape. She lay there thinking about ways she could get away, how sexy he was, how she didn’t really think he’d kill her, how if she’d been in a bar and met a man as gorgeous as he was she’d have taken him home. She suspected he wanted her for more than blood. The thought filled her with panicky desire. He was so beautiful. His voice sent shivers up her spine. But he’d abducted her and threatened her … though he hadn’t harmed her yet. She smiled wryly. With the way he’d been about the bathroom, she felt more like an annoying houseguest than a prisoner.

She found a couple of books on a dresser and tried to read, she tried to sleep, she tried to ignore her empty stomach. She tested the doorknob. She discovered that there were locked metal shutters behind the drapes. She drank from the faucet again. Finally her late night and current situation caught up with her and she slept.

When she woke, a glass and an antique carafe filled with water were sitting on the nightstand. She made a frustrated noise. Didn’t captors do that? Offer small kindnesses to their prisoners to wear their resistance down? She went to the door and tried the knob. To her surprise, it opened – and he wasn’t lurking in the hallway. She padded down the stairs, thinking that her attempt at silence was futile if vampires’ senses were as enhanced as the stories said. The house was an old one, dusty, run-down, but with the skeleton of a beauty. She could spend hours looking at the photos and paintings that cluttered the walls. Maybe he’d let her. Before he drank from her? Drained her? Turned her?

She stood debating at the foot of the stairs, trying to decide where to go. “Fuck!” The curse made her jump. It was followed by a string of oaths. Maybe she should go back upstairs. But she was curious by nature, so she waited quietly. Curiosity. Cat. Blah blah blah.

She heard soft notes from a cello. Maybe he’d been swearing at his iPod. The haunting music got louder, and she edged down the hall until she finally peered through a doorway. It was no recording – he was playing the cello. The melody wept with sadness, so much that she could feel tears echoing in her eyes. When he stopped playing, he seemed to sag, his head bowed, the bow dangling from his hand.

“It was beautiful,” she whispered, expecting him to turn on her in anger.

Instead he raised his head slowly, wearily, and looked intently at her. “It is. A lament by someone I knew centuries ago.”

“Your playing is lovely.”

“I’ve had a lifetime to practice.” Again, she saw the barest twitch of humor at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you play all of these?” she asked, gesturing at the guitars and other instruments hung on the walls, propped on the floor, or cluttering the tables. There were a drum kit and a keyboard too.

“Yeah.”

“Wow. Do you have a band?”

He raised one eyebrow at her.

“Oh. Okay. I assumed with all this you played in a band. Maybe an orchestra.”

“No.”

“Just yourself.”

“Yeah. No audience.”

“I’d like to listen.”

“If I let you.”

“Like you let me out of the bedroom?”

“Yes. And I can put you back there the moment I choose to.”

“I know.”

“Shouldn’t you be hiding upstairs anyway? Afraid I’m going to drink you?”

“It’s not my nature to hide.”

“You’re brave.”

“Maybe. Curious. Easily bored.” She shrugged. “That’s who I am.”

He shook his head and looked away from her. “Leave me alone.”

She turned.

“I’ve arranged for things you need,” he said to her back. “Food. Things for … er, bath things. Go.”

She was amused by the quality of the food she found in the kitchen. Somehow she’d expected canned soup and an apple or something. But instead she found imported cheese, salami, good bread, olives, fresh fruit. And on another shelf in the fridge, a steak and a bag of spinach. She rolled her eyes. Of course. She’d need to keep her iron levels up if he was drinking from her. Did that mean he meant to keep her? Who knew? Men were incomprehensible enough. A vampire had to be worse.

When she found two bars of dark Swiss chocolate on the counter, she snorted. She wouldn’t have imagined that he’d know about women and chocolate. Pity there wasn’t a bottle of wine, because she’d be perfectly happy to get drunk, not to mention it would go well with the cheese. But she expected he’d rather have her fully aware when he bit her. Leaving the steak for another time, she filled a plate and took it upstairs to the bedroom. 

After she’d eaten, the lure of a hot bath won out over anything else. She found those ‘bath things’ – soap and shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste – in the bathroom. After making sure this door was locked, too, she stripped down and sank gratefully into the tub. Relatively safe behind two locked doors, she felt the water soothe her body, though her mind stayed busy. She’d always thought of herself as sensible and grounded, and her instant understanding that he was a vampire went against every logical thought she’d ever had. And now, she didn’t know why she wasn’t freaking out at being held captive by this volatile, dangerous creature who she didn’t imagine she could ever comprehend. He’d kidnapped her, but now was treating her well. He had a temper. He’d played achingly beautiful music that went straight to her soul. He was an enigma. So beautiful. So sad. She wondered how he would look smiling, how he would sound laughing.

Once she was clean, she couldn’t bear to put on her dirty clothes, so she dared to put on the opulent robe that hung on the back of the door. She walked into the bedroom to fetch a comb from her purse.

“Have you taken care of your needs?” He was leaning against the doorframe.

His bored tone aggravated her, but not as much as her own high-pitched yip of surprise did. “Have you?” she snapped. “Did you drink some of that blood you stole?”

“Yeah. It was particularly unsatisfying tonight.” He moved nearer, and she could feel his eyes on her. She clutched the neck of the robe close.

“I know what’s under there. Fabric can’t hide how delicious you are.”

Despite the voluminous robe, she’d never felt more naked in her life.

He moved so close that their bodies were almost touching. He leaned even closer to nuzzle at her neck. When he kissed her skin, she gasped.

“What –”

“Hush,” he murmured as he nipped at her neck.

He straightened and looked down at her. She hadn’t fully appreciated how tall he was until now. “You’re beautiful,” he said. His eyes were even more striking from inches away, now softer and warmer than she’d yet seen them. He brushed his fingers down her neck and across her collarbones, then trailed them from the hollow at the base of her throat all the way to the valley between her breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he said again. He licked his lips, the unconscious gesture of a man anticipating a kiss. His fingers stayed between her breasts while he buried his other hand in her damp hair, angling her head. He brushed his lips across hers, teasing, taunting, and she strained toward him with a small, frustrated noise. It made him chuckle very softly and graze her lips with his tongue. She whimpered and heard a sound from deep in his chest. When his tongue brushed her lips again, she opened her mouth to him. His hand tightened in her hair, and his lips met hers in a fierce kiss. She was so lost in it that when his hand cupped her breast, she cried out softly, surprised.

“Shall I stop?” he murmured.

“No,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.” His kisses were intoxicating and she intended to get thoroughly drunk on him. She moaned softly as he began brushing his thumb over her nipple. A long breath shuddered from her as her head fell back.

And then he stopped.

When she opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her neck, at the quickly beating pulse his kisses had ignited. He met her gaze with eyes that were unfathomably dark, and she remembered what he was.

“Are you afraid of me?” he said, his voice husky and low.

“No.” Because she wasn’t, somehow.

“I want you to be afraid,” he said.

“Why? Is that how you get off?” she dared to say.

“No. If you’re not afraid of me, then you’re stupid.” He pulled away from her and stalked toward the door. “And I can’t bear the thought that you could be.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampires have emotions. Names have power.

She didn’t want to stay in the bedroom, especially since he hadn’t locked her in again after he left her. No, she needed to be honest with herself. She didn’t want to stay because she was drawn to him, contrary to the scolding synapses in the logical part of her brain.

When she’d composed herself, she went downstairs and stood in the doorway of the living room, watching him as he rustled through some sheet music.

“Excuse me,” she said.

His head whipped around and he stared at her.

“May I read one of your books?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to better my mind,” she snapped. She shook her head with a wry smile. “I’m sorry. Because I feel like reading something other than the two books I found in the bedroom. And I can’t just sit around worrying about my fate when it’s out of my hands. I’d rather spend my last hours reading.”

“Last hours? You could be here for a very long time.” His eyes flicked to her throat as she swallowed nervously. “Go ahead and take one,” he said, flapping his hand at the laden shelves, seeming to focus on his papers.

But she knew he watched her as she browsed the shelves and selected a book of poetry. “Would it bother you if I sat in the corner there and read?”

He let out an aggravated sigh. “No.”

“Thanks. Oh, and I haven’t thanked you for the toiletries and food. I’m curious. Do you have an assistant who shops for you?”

“I prefer the term ‘minion,’” he said. This time she was sure that the corner of his mouth rose.

She softly snorted a laugh, then tipped her head to one side, contemplating him. “I’d like to see you smile.”

“Don’t,” he warned.

Deciding not to push him, she went to the chair in the corner. She flipped aimlessly through the book, distracted by his presence.

“You know –”

“Do you ever shut up?” he interrupted.

She chose to ignore him. “There are two things.”

He sighed.

“First, can’t you get it over with, whatever you have planned for me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“God, you can be a real asshole.”

“You have no idea. Now what else do you want to say to me?”

“This. If you’re going to drink from me or fuck me or kill me or – in fact, even if you’re just going to keep me locked up here – you should know my name.”

“I prefer anonymity.”

“Douchebag,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

He sighed, clearly annoyed, and shuffled his papers ostentatiously.

After a moment she said, “Sophie. I’m Sophie.”

He shot to his feet. “Shut up!”

“I’m Sophie.” She met his eyes.

He strode toward her, fists clenched. “Shut the fuck up! I told you that I don’t want to know!”

“I’m Sophie.”

He raised a hand.

“Go on and hit me!” she dared him. “Go on!”

He punched the wall. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, grimacing as he looked at his bloody knuckles. But the marks healed as Sophie watched.

“I’m S –” she began

“Stop it!” he interrupted, his voice what she could only call a roar.

“I want you to know who I am!”

A fragile silence filled the room. Finally he whispered, “I can’t.”

 

And Sophie was back upstairs in the bedroom. She’d left him after their exchange, knowing that she’d pushed further than she should.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she dumped the contents of her purse in front of her. Obviously, he had her phone, but the battery would be dead by now, anyway. She didn’t want to kill him, but would it be worth trying to defend herself with a pair of tweezers and a nail file? Probably not. She shifted her weight and a lipstick rolled off the bed. When feeling around with her foot didn’t work, she got down on hands and knees.

Sophie practically had to stick her head under the bed to find the damned lipstick. As she reached for it, she noticed an interesting-looking box. He’d kill her – perhaps literally – for snooping, but he might anyway. She pulled the box out, sat back on her heels and opened it.

“Oh my god.” She’d decided she’d likely die because he’d drained her of blood. Now she wasn’t so certain.

He walked into the room as Sophie held the gun in her hands. “Put that down.” His calm voice frightened her more than his anger had. When he added, “Please,” she looked at him in surprise.

“Why is it here? Is this how you intend to kill me?”

“It’s not meant for you.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice was bitter. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Just end it, will you?”

“Look at me. It’s not meant for you. There’s just one bullet, and it’s quite special.” When she lifted a pouch from the box, he said, “Yes. That’s it.”

Loosening the drawstrings, she tipped it into her cupped hand. “It’s a bullet,” she said.

“Look more closely.”

Sophie frowned. “It’s made of wood.”

“Yes. The modern, do-it-yourself equivalent of a stake through the heart.” His voice was flat, dull.

Why did she suddenly feel such a rush of sympathy? “You’ve thought of killing yourself?”

“Frequently, of late.”

“Why?” she asked softly, gently.

He turned away from her. “It’s none of your business.”

“You can talk to me –”

“It’s none of your fucking business!” he shouted.

“But I want to understand,” she said.

“You don’t have enough time left to understand.”

At the finality of his words something broke inside her. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not ready to die … please. Please, don’t kill me.” Tears welled in her eyes, but Sophie could still see his face. His angry expression changed to bewilderment, and then to something else.

“That’s not – ah, fuck. Sophie. Sophie! Listen to me.” He knelt next to her and she flinched. He reached out a hand and touched her knee. “Look at me.” Her tear-filled eyes met his. “I didn’t mean that I was going to kill you. I didn’t. I meant that the ninety years of a human life isn’t long enough to comprehend what my life is like. That’s why you can’t possibly understand.”

“Oh.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of the robe. “You frightened me.”

“Obviously,” he said dryly.

Sophie rolled her eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

“I can’t kill you.”

“Well, that’s good.” She gave him a tiny smile.

They looked at each other silently until she leaned toward him.

“Sophie …” he warned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A taste of humanity, a taste of desire.

Sophie laid her hand on his where it rested on his thigh. “I believe you. You’re not going to kill me.”

“I never was,” he murmured. He didn’t meet her eyes.

She smiled wryly. “You had me going for a while there.”

“It was cruel of me. Monstrous.”

“You’re not a monster.”

Now he looked at her. “How can you say that?” He ticked off each phrase on his fingers. “I abducted you. I’m holding you captive. I’ve threatened you.”

“But you haven’t hurt me. You’ve treated me well.”

“Fucking positive outlook,” he muttered.

“You’re not going to kill me, and you’re not going to turn me. We both know what we want, so let’s stop pretending.” She tilted her head to one side, offering her neck.

“Stop that!” he snapped, jumping to his feet more quickly than any human could move. He turned away, the embodiment of tension, from the set of his shoulders to his clenched fists.

“Would you prefer if I said it straight out?”

He didn’t respond.

She stood up. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You have no idea what that means.”

“You bite me and –”

“Don’t feign innocence,” he said with an annoyed sigh. “You know what I meant. You don’t know where it can lead.”

“To me lying dead on the floor?”

He spun back around. “I have more fucking control than that!”

“Show me.” Sophie trailed her fingers down her neck.

“Bloody fucking hell! Don’t do that!”

“But I want you to drink.”

“You don’t. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I want to find out. I want you to show me.”

“Why?” His voice was desperate.

“What I felt when you kissed me … I want more. I want all of you.” Sophie offered her neck again.

He was silent, the growing darkness of his eyes saying more than his voice ever could.

She held out her wrist.

He simply raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to drink from there.”

“So you will drink from me?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll drink. I’m hungry for you. Fucking ravenous.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, planting a hot, lingering kiss on the inside of her wrist.

“Do it,” she said.

“But I said ‘not there.’” Still, he nipped at her wrist and she gasped. His pupils were fully dilated, his eyes black with a fine line of color around the edge. He leaned in and kissed her on her neck, closing his teeth over the pulsing artery until she moaned. He raised his head. “Why would I drink from somewhere so mundane? Do you want to give me more than blood, Sophie?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He inhaled deeply. “Fuck. I can smell that you do. I can feel the heat rising from your skin. You want it.”

“I want you. I want to know who you are.”

He stared at her with those remarkable eyes, shaking his head. “You’ve always known what I am. You said it yourself.”

“You’re not a ‘what.’ Not any more. Who are you? Don’t hide from me any longer. Please tell me your name.”

After a moment – a moment in which she thought she’d lost him – he breathed, “Adam.”

“Adam,” she said, tasting his name on her tongue, testing its timelessness. “Adam.” Holding his gaze, she untied the sash and guided his hands to the fabric of the robe.

Adam groaned. He spread the robe open, pushing it off her shoulders to fall to the floor.

Now her heart was pounding and her breaths were rapid and shallow.

So were his as his eyes traveled over her body. “Drinking from your wrist would be a travesty.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I never do. You’re beautiful.”

“Now you. I want to see you.”

Adam was wearing only jeans, and she watched, rapt, as he pushed them off his hips. Raw desire coursed through her when she saw how aroused he was. They kissed until his breaths rasped harshly in his throat, until her nails dug into his smooth ivory skin. He laid her on the bed and stood looking down at her with those dark, eternal eyes, until she was aching so much for his touch that her back arched and her head fell back. With a groan, he moved to cover her, looming over her then lowering himself so very slowly to bring his mouth to hers. He kissed her until she whimpered over and over and her body strained upward beneath him. When he kissed his way down her neck, closing his teeth over the vein, she thought he’d bite her then, bleed her from her neck despite what he’d said, but his mouth started moving again. His hands came to her breasts, and he fondled one as he kissed the other. She cried out when he used his teeth – it was just this side of pain, but still felt so good. He made a rough sound in response and nipped again.

When he’d left her breasts and kissed his way down her belly, Adam said, “Open your legs.”

Sophie hesitated.

“Open for me, Sophie.” Adam stroked her thighs gently. She slowly slid her legs apart and he settled himself there, looking up her body. He touched her, running his finger across her, circling around her entrance. “So wet,” he said as he slipped two long fingers inside. Sophie made desperate, primal sounds as he moved them in and out. Her body contracted, squeezing against his fingers, and she heard him groan. Then his mouth was on her, and there was nothing but the sensations created by his lips and tongue, underscored by the rhythm of his fingers thrusting and flexing inside her. She was lost in the building tension, desperate for resolution, climbing until her climax hit her with pulses of sharp pleasure, leaving her quaking.

She felt Adam push her legs further apart, and then a sharp prick high on her inner thigh. Her hand tightened in his hair as she surrendered to the unfamiliar pull of his mouth. It didn’t hurt, really, and the sounds he was making were so sensual that they almost made her forget just what he was doing. But he kept going, taking more, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips until she started to panic. “Adam,” she said. “Adam!”

He lifted his head and Sophie saw his fangs for the first time, sharp and bloody. Something distant, something ‘other’ looked through his eyes. He dipped his head again.

“No! Please!” she begged.

Adam looked up, and now his eyes held only desire. “Hush, Sophie. Hush. I’m going to heal you.” He ran his tongue across the sharp tip of one fang and lowered his head, touching his tongue, his blood, ever so gently to her wounds. And then he was looking at her, fangs gone, but licking his bloody lips like a cat.

“Blood that way … It’s been …” He rose up over her. “Centuries.” His eyes were dark, but dark with something purely human. “I need …”

Her body urged her. Her mind didn’t hesitate. “So do I.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Slowly, carefully, he entered her. A soft gasp left her throat as he stretched her. Adam froze, muscles quivering as he strained to hold still. “Am I hurting you?”

She rolled her hips slightly – once, twice – ignoring his groans, until their bodies fit together. “Now,” she commanded.

Adam pulled almost all the way out then plunged back into her, sheathing himself completely. The perfect friction as he started to move was irresistible, and Sophie’s hips began moving with his. It was fierce and wild and the tension built until he reached down to stroke her. She needed nothing more to come, calling his name. She watched him as he moved faster and faster until he reached his release, his face marked by a grimace that did nothing to detract from his beauty.

When he withdrew from her, Sophie was certain he would leave her and retreat to wherever it was he’d slept since she’d been there, and she resigned herself to a lonely bed. Adam moved to her side and kissed her. Despite the taste of her blood on his tongue, she surrendered to his surprising gentleness. He took her in his arms and held her close, kissing the top of her head.

“Sophie,” he whispered. “Let me sleep away the day with you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To sleep, to wake, to choose.

She wasn’t sure how they’d ended up in a such a tangle of limbs, or how he could possibly be comfortable with his head angled awkwardly onto her belly. She stroked his hair, softly, tentatively, savoring this unconscious intimacy, the only kind she would have from him: the intimacy of slumbering trust, too fragile to survive their dark waking hours.

Called by the setting sun, perhaps, Adam stirred. He stretched and made a discontented sound. A whisper left her mouth without thought: “ _The firefly wakens: waken thou with me._ ”

The corners of Adam’s mouth turned up. He sighed. When he raised his head to look at her, there was a moment of disorientation in his eyes that made her inexplicably sad. His eyes cleared and he said, his voice rough with sleep, “ _Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost … And like a ghost she glimmers on to me… . Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars –_ ”

Sophie knew the next words would shatter this moment – but she would say them. “ _And all thy heart lies open unto me._ ”

She thought he might speak. She hoped he would. Instead he closed his eyes and let his head rest on her again.

She felt his breath trickle across her skin. “You need to drink some water,” he said. “You need to eat.”

“I know. I will. Just … I want to stay here with you for a while longer.”

“No. Don’t.”

“What?!?” Sophie shoved him in the shoulder. “Then get your fucking head off me!”

He grunted and slid off her.

She swung her legs off the bed – not caring that she kicked him – stood, and promptly dropped to the floor, her head spinning. “Shit,” she muttered. She looked up to see his face peering over the edge of the bed.

“Sophie –”

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” She pushed herself up on hands and knees, letting her head hang as she took several deep breaths.

“Sophie.”

“I’m fine. Don’t let me disturb you.” She got to her feet, closing her eyes until the room stopped spinning. Of course, the carafe on the bedside table was empty. She started for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the goddamn drink of water you told me to get.” She was clinging to the door frame as she said it.

She’d taken two steps toward the stairs when she felt his hands on her upper arms as he pulled her back against him. She understood what a kitten held by the scruff of the neck must feel.

“Let me go.”

“No. You’ll break your neck.”

“Well, that would certainly solve the problem of what to do with me. And you could even have a quick breakfast while I was still fresh.”

“Fuck, Sophie!” He turned her to face him. “What the hell is this all about?”

“God. How old are you and you still have to ask questions like that?”

And now she was a kitten in his arms as he carried her to the bed.

“Don’t move.”

“But –”

“Don’t talk.” He rolled his eyes. “Please – don’t talk.”

 

He was back more quickly than she thought possible, a beautiful naked waiter carrying water and a plate of bread.

Before Sophie realized what he was doing, Adam set everything on the bedside table and slipped into bed, pulling her close until she was cradled in his arms as he leant against the headboard. Sophie was utterly baffled at the change in him.

“Please forgive me, Sophie,” he said.

“For what?” she asked.

“For ignoring your needs. It’s been a long time since I took blood this way … and even longer since I took it from someone I didn’t – discard. I forgot how it would affect you.” He brought a glass of water to her lips. “Drink.”

She drank half the glass. He handed her a piece of bread. “You’ll need a real meal soon. I can’t – I don’t know how to cook. Can you prepare what you need?”

Sophie nodded. The thought of the steak made her mouth water. She took the glass from him and drained it. He filled it again and she drank that too. Sophie reached across him and took more bread from the plate. As she ate it, she thought how oddly right it felt to be held by him, to feel his skin against hers in a non-sexual way, to feel his hand stroking her hair, comforting her as he would a skittish cat.

“I’m sorry that I neglected you,” he said, his voice husky. “Your safety and comfort … after what you gave me, they’re my responsibility. I treated you poorly. I’m sorry.”

She knew he meant it, but she couldn’t let it sway her. She needed to free herself from him. “Let me try to get up again,” she said.

“Alright.” Adam rose first and extended his hand to her. He didn’t release her until Sophie had taken a few steady steps. He picked up the robe from the floor and held it for her to put on.

“Thank you,” she said.

He pulled on his jeans and stood watching her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Adam, please. Please tell me.”

He took a deep breath. “Don’t expect more from me, Sophie. I can’t do better than this.”

He left her.

 

Only hot water could make her body forget the feel of his cool skin on hers, so Sophie drew a bath once she’d eaten. Afterward, she dressed in her own clothing. She couldn’t bear to wear Adam’s robe again, to be surrounded by the scents of dust and old leather, musk and spice. Of him.

Damn her unfaithful senses for betraying her. Taunting her with not only his scent, but the sound of his voice and his music. The phantom touch of his fingers and mouth. The taste of his lips, alone and mixed with her arousal and her blood. Visions of his exquisite face and body. The dark depths of his striking eyes, sometimes feral, sometimes human. The expression on his face, eyes hooded, mouth open, when he came undone.

What frightened her was that beyond the sensual, she wanted his words, his mind, his talent. She wanted to explore his cluttered sanctuary of art and science. She wanted to watch him create music. She wanted to make him smile.

Was this his vampire magic, that he’d captivated her until she could hardly remember how she came to be with him? His darkness made her the crimson petal, not the white – warmer and brighter than she had been in years.

 

His summons came at night’s end. “Sophie! Come here.”

She gathered her things, clinging to their comforting familiarity, and walked downstairs.

Adam met her in the dusty foyer, still dim from the dark hours. He surprised her by pulling her into an embrace and kissing the top of her head. She could feel the words as much as hear them as he said, “ _Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves … A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me._ ”

Puzzled, she stepped back, looking up at him.

“I’ve decided,” he said.

“You have,” she said. Her voice grew stronger. “Tell me. Tell me what you’re going to do with me.”

One corner of Adam’s mouth turned up, but there was no humor in that hint of a smile. “I’m going to trust you.”

He opened the door.

With one last look into his beautiful eyes, Sophie turned and walked into the soft air and birdsong of the moment before dawn.

 

**Epilogue**

Adam drew the bow across the strings of the violin. He cringed at the noise it made. He swore and set the instrument down. He’d tried enough times this night and the sound had gotten no sweeter. It wasn’t fair to the elegant old instrument to put it through that kind of torture.

He’d tried to read from his collection of Shakespeare’s works, but for once, he couldn’t get lost in the glorious language. He respected the Bard too much to not give him his full attention, so he’d turned to his music, but could find no contentment there. The notes went in unexpected, unfamiliar directions, like fireflies, there one moment and gone the next.

He’d even gone to the bedroom and pulled the box out from under the bed, holding the gun and breathing its scent of metal and oil. But when he picked up the velvet pouch, the bullet was gone. That precious bit of _Dalbergia retusa_ was gone. Had Sophie taken it? He expected so. After how he’d treated her, it was only fair that she steal his chance for salvation, for peace, for rest. 

If only he’d spoken. _And all thy heart lies open unto me._

He’d had some blood from his dwindling supply. It met a need, yet didn’t satisfy him. But he’d continue to drink, continue to go to sleep with the dawn and rise with the setting sun. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again, at least the recent ones. This life waxed blood-red and waned night-dark, but it was what he had.

Still, tonight he was restless and empty, dissatisfied with everything he tried to do. He fidgeted; he paced; he lifted the edge of the heavy drapery and looked out into the darkness, his eyes drawn to the dim pool of light on the sidewalk.

Adam let the drapery fall back into place. He descended the stairs and opened the door.

His smile grew as his sweet Sophie walked into his arms.

_Now folds the lily all her sweetness up / And slips into the bosom of the lake / So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip / Into my bosom and be lost in me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes lines from “Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal,” a sonnet by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. When I listened to Tom Hiddleston read it on the Love Book app, I knew it belonged to Adam and Sophie.


End file.
